


The Boy Who Ran to Waves

by VMarsTrek



Category: Veronica Mars - Fandom
Genre: F/M, MazzyPalooza2020, Near Death Experience, soul searching
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-15
Updated: 2020-09-15
Packaged: 2021-03-06 16:01:42
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,428
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26471560
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/VMarsTrek/pseuds/VMarsTrek
Summary: Dick spends a year away from Neptune. What he finds surprises everyone.
Relationships: Logan echolls/ Veronica mars
Comments: 16
Kudos: 30
Collections: MazzyPalooza2020





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [jmazzy](https://archiveofourown.org/users/jmazzy/gifts).



> Thank you to my two last minute betas who turned this around super quick: LoVeObsessed and IzzyB
> 
> Spotify Playlist: https://open.spotify.com/playlist/5EACre9JTXEznAQo6ZU8Vj?si=fCkcLD6ISsyh_ds_-9_jiA

To say he’s been around would be a misnomer. Everyone at Neptune High knew his name, and could tell you at least one story about him that they either witnessed first hand or knew someone who did. Same at Hearst. 

It was getting old.

Three weeks after Cassidy’s death, Dick had walked in on Logan and Veronica cuddling on the couch in the penthouse suite. Dick being, well Dick, was well on his way to being trashed out of his mind, eager to forget that his brother was both the perpetrator and the victim and Dick hadn’t seen either coming. Seeing the recently reunited lovebirds set him off, and threw a faux fish at a pillar, screaming about how they didn’t have the right to be happy; it was their fault his little brother walked off the edge, how they didn’t stop him, Veronica didn’t solve it fast enough; Logan didn’t move quick enough.

Everyone was left reeling and Dick went on a three day bender.

Veronica, despite her better judgement, found the truant Dick lying naked, spread eagle on a sand dune. There had been a small music concert the night before, and one stop to get coffee was all it took to figure out that the passed out dude was her boyfriend’s idiot of a best friend. Taser in hand, she forced him back to the suite. After a shower, clean clothes and a hot meal, she had read him the riot act. Did he think he was the only one hurting or that it would solve all the problems laying blame on Logan? 

“Sleep it off and get some perspective. Getting wasted and laid is so Neptune High.” Veronica droled with a roll of her eye. She picked up her messenger bag and let the door slam behind her.

Dick keeled over on the couch, letting his arms flop to the sides. “Fucking bitch.” Came as a 11mumble as he turned his face into the pillow. When he woke up again, there was a blanket over him, and a glass of water on the table with some Advil. The suite was still empty, but there was a scent of something slightly fruity or flowery in the air. At least his brain processed that as he fell back asleep.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Summer comes and goes and by some small miracle, Dick is accepted into Hearst’s Liberal Arts program. He doesn’t question it really, wasn’t it a foregone conclusion once he told his accountants that’s what he wanted? He’d snuck into Logan’s laptop and no, plagiarized, wasn’t the word he wanted, he was smart enough to change words, delete sentences, and really at the end of the day….do they really read all those entrance essays?

Dick even registered for his own classes, bought his own books, much to the skeptical eye of Veronica.

“You know, you have to show up to class, right? The tuition you paid allows you the privilege to attend classes, but doesn’t guarantee you a grade. This isn’t high school anymore, Dick.” Veronica tosses at him one night when he is bemoaning the cost of a single text book compared to the cost of a keg. Logan is stifling a laugh and shovelling in a piece of cubano sandwich, feeling sorry for his friend, because while he agrees that the cost of these books are insane, he thinks Dick might be out of his depth.

“Duh Rons. Thanks.” Crunching chips mute his response as they fall down into his shirt. Then into his board shorts as he stands.

“Dude. If you get ants in my car…” Logan snaps, pulling a dustbuster seemingly out of nowhere, causing Veronica to roll over in the back in laughter.

And everything is alright with the world, for a minute, so long as Dick remembers not to move or breathe. Or until he meets Chip Diller.

“Yo dude, I’m just saying CHIP DILLer.” Dick rolls his hands with an all too eager look on his face. “You know, like chips and dill dip.” 

“Yes, and like I said, that’s my name….so anyway...PI Sigs, tonight? We are having a big blow out, you know, back to school, our sister house always comes and the chicks are hot and down for a good time.” Chip nudges Dick a little too hard and Dick wonders if Chip is a little hard up in the lady department. “Can I put you down for a keg or….three….”

Logan happens to walk by and overhears the eagerness in Chip’s voice, so does an about face heading over. It’s not because of who his parents are or better yet, were, because, well, just, no. It’s not because of his wealth, or his looks, or the fact that his girlfriend is a smoking hot blonde detective and verbal beatdowns are her thing, and she’s right over there watching in the wings so to speak.

It’s because Logan has zero fucks to give as he tells Chip he can find another mark to fund his little party, hauling Dick away from yet another wallet hanger on. And because Logan chooses his friends, or is trying to, more wisely. Dick needs to learn to do the same. But Dick just laughs and slaps Logan on the back before scooping Veronica up in a side hug, much to the risk of his health.

Despite an inclusion in Logan and Veronica’s plans, Dick goes to the Pi Sigs party. He brings chips and dill pickle dip along with four kegs.

He attends classes when he’s sober or Logan drags him, but mostly it’s luck of the draw for the first few weeks. “What’s there to worry about,” he thinks to himself one Saturday afternoon, rolling over to stare at the ceiling. “So what if I flunk? Who will be there when I fail?” Dick starts to laugh, until the reality of the words start to sink in. Effectively he’s been abandoned. His father preferred the company of gold digging bimbos, until even that wasn’t an enticement to stay within the confines of the good old US of A. His womb sponsor flew the coup, reappearing once with sandwiches and Tupperware. Because that solves all problems. Even she couldn’t be bothered to take Beaver back with her, who all but  _ begged _ her. He might have gotten the help he had needed had she been a little selfless and so many others would still be alive.

Dick smothers a scream into the pillow.

He feels he is at a turning point, or more likely a breaking point, but has no idea what is on the other side except more of the same. Logan is literally wrapped up in Ronnie, and seems to work on himself for her. That Wally dude has his shit together, but his mom would rake him over the coals. Mac attack has her family and even though she rolls her eyes when she talks about her little brother flipping their canoe when they went camping, he knows she wouldn’t miss those trips for the world.

He rolls over trying to remember where he is and sees the ceiling fan of the games room of the Pi Sigma house. Great. Another night of their sucktastic couch. 

Richard Sr was smart enough to hide money in Swiss bank accounts and other off-shore accounts, but could not be bothered to register the house under a shell company so maybe, just maybe when his house of cards gets set ablaze by the Securities and Exchange Commission, his kids might be taken care of.  _ Thanks Dad. _ Thankfully the first tier of Dick’s trust opened at 18 so he is ok financially, but Casa Casablancas was locked tight while Dick Sr was off living the high life somewhere else, just not here.

Shifting on the couch, a broken spring jabs him the back, and that somehow feels appropriate. So while contemplating his day, Dick lets the sharp pain seep into his nervous system. At least the pain stays and doesn’t let him down.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Another week comes and goes and the crash he has anticipated for weeks, hell years, happens. Oddly enough, he is out on the ocean when it happens. It’s a slightly cloudy day and he’s had a few tokes of Pineapple Bliss. He is feeling great, nothing is clouding his mind, not even Bonnie leaving him high and dry last night. He left Logan alone because he doesn’t want to risk emo Logan; alternatively, he doesn’t want to risk over the moon schmoopy Logan. If he had happy Logan…..but since he never knows, why risk the drama.

So he left the drama lama in his suite.

Dick sees the perfect wave conditions take shape about 500 metres away. Growing up as a California boy and surfing up and down the coast, going up as far in the Ring of Fire as Tofino BC, has trained his eye how to spot the right formation. Watch the horizon, right or left and he knows he is the furthest out, has been for awhile now, call it to other surfers to go ahead of him.

Dick sees it, and makes his first mistake thinking it’s going right when it’s going  _ left.  _ This is where being a skilled surfer is necessary and he is able to correct. Difficult? Yes. Can he do it? Absolutely. He’s a bit rattled; it’s been years since he has done something so green, something so  _ sloppy.  _ But he recovers and it will make a good story once he hits the beach and he figures there will be a handful of bikini clad babes with no knowledge of surfing who will be impressed. He might get laid from his faux pas. 

His elation lasts all of 5 seconds.

That’s when some out of towner newbie surfer he doesn’t recognize doesn’t respect the rules of surfing and slides onto the wave  _ just  _ in front of Dick, which causes him to make a decision between colliding with the surfer, which in HIS mind the fucker kinda deserves. But surfers have rules for a reason, and even though Dick is Dick, he follows them, and so using every abdominal muscle and then some, he pushes his board the other way. Unfortunately at the same time, an opposing wave he didn’t see washes over him and he swept under and he got caught in the undertow.

It’s in the succeeding seconds; while his brain is slowly drained of oxygen, and his eyes and hands are desperately seeking something,  _ anything,  _ to grasp onto, that he lets go.

Dick stops.

He closes his eyes and closes his mind to incoming thoughts except to unleash himself from his board. To hell if it hurts someone, because...

Seawater starts to seep into his mouth and he knows how this all goes down, and he tries, but just can’t seem to care enough. He is caught, but is just so  _ tired  _ of it all. How does Logan do it? Lilly, Lynn, Aaron, Felix murder charge times two, not to mention the Ronnie rollercoaster. 

He bumps on the sandy bottom and feels a small sand dollar flip into his palm. Sure, why not.

But his reality is thrust upon him again whether he wants it or not when long fingers and strong hands yank him from his deep water meditation.

Corny? Figures.

“Yo! Dude! I got your surfboard. It’s a sweet deal, no doubt. What’re doin’ on the bottom dude? It’s a righteous day out! I’ll paddle you in...got your board tethered, you alright? Got some sweet Mary Jane, import from Canada. Dude in New Brunswick. He has THE best stuff, but hard to track, ya know?” The prattling continues as Corny surprisingly makes great strides in returning to the shore with an uncharacteristically quiet Dick.

Looking around,Dick sees some lifeguards milling around unsure what to do. “Uh, Thanks Corny, you need a ride anywhere?” It’s the least he can do.

“Nah. Gots to hang here for a while. Veronica man. She’s got something cooking and she needs my magic hands for something, but yo, thanks dude! Catcha on the flip!” Corny may have said more, but he’s turned away and heading into the wind. Dick just hopes his  _ magic hands _ are not like Logan’s…

Returning to his vehicle and strapping down his board, he ponders the  _ what if’s  _ of the day and bats at the tears that sneak out of his eyes. Dick still has an adrenaline high going realizing if he bit it then, no one in his circle would have been near. Not even Ronnie. Corny is an ok dude, fun even on the right cocktail of uppers to match his intensity, but he isn’t one of Dick’s own. More tears leak, each with their own what if.

Staring at the beach, Dick realizes, even with Chip and the rest of the Pi Sig, he hasn’t had one of his “own” for a while. Logan and Ronnie are it and Ronnie barely tolerates him.

Dick puts the car in reverse and backs out of the parking lot and navigates out onto the PCH. He has a lot to think about and he isn’t sure Neptune is the right place for him anymore.


	2. Chapter 2

To say it’s been a long haul, well, Dick is still tired. At least now he feels he has earned this tiredness. 

He recollects that almost a year ago to the day he traveled this road on the way out of Neptune, out of California, out of his  _ LIFE. _

That day Corny had pulled him out of the surf and Dick crashed, he had turned south on the PCH figuring a night in TIjuana getting blasted with tequila would cure his ails. When that drove him further into his, whatever it was he was going through, he decided to drive further, keeping tight to the coast since all he really brought was his wetsuit and his board.

After the third day, he let Logan know he went south, but didn’t provide many other details. He was safe, only chased by the demons in his mind.

Despite being dragged around to resorts all his life, he made sure not to so much as stop for a bathroom break in one. It seemed disingenuous to whatever this was. Dick doesn’t know and doesn't really care, as he has no agenda to follow.

At Ensenada Dick decides to continue on the peninsula, because why not? By the time he gets to La Paz he feels he took a wrong turn somewhere, so he hops a ferry to Mazatlan. Before getting on he stops in a Walmart to grab a notebook and some snacks for the ride. 

Wandering around trying to kill some time, he sees a kid and dad , although as Dick skirts around for a closer look, he doesn’t seem old enough to be a dad. He does hear a quiet argument, concerning a tank top, pink with a glittery unicorn. Dick smirks thinking Ronnie could fit in it. 

While his Spanish is rusty, Dick picks up the gist of the conversation pretty quickly. Sister’s birthday and not enough pesos for the tank top. 

Dick looks in his cart filled with nothing he really  _ needs,  _ just wants. He fiddles with a pack of Cheetos. Does he even really want these? He just threw them in to fill a void he figured he would have later, but there could be better things he could fill that void with.

He looks back at the two counting pesos and rummaging around racks. Dick knows this isn’t right, even he can see it. 

Pulling out his wallet he counts out bills, leaving just enough to pay for some gas, the ferry and his snacks. Logan is always on him about carrying large amounts of cash, but now he is thankful for his insolence.

Approaching from the side, he turns towards the older boy, man?, as he folds the bills, with smaller ones on top.

“Senor?”

“Si? Suspicion clouds his voice as he steps closer to the younger boy.

“Hablo ingles?” Dick stops approaching meeting the man’s eyes with a slight smile.

“Si, yes, some. Can I help you?” 

“Here, you dropped this back there.” Dick tries to do the thing he sees Ronnie do with Logan all the time, having an entire conversation with just a look. But he doesn’t want to seem like some sort of creeper either. So he reaches out to shake the man’s hand, clasping on top with the other, looking him in the eye, with a glance to the young boy beside him. 

One can blame Dick that he can not fully communicate in the national language of Mexico, or that his snack choices largely revolve around getting stoned. But behind it all  _ does  _ lie the heart of a gentle giant. So when Dick see’s that the man is struggling for words, not recognizing that the cash could easily represent a night out, Dick smiles, nods his head and heads towards the check out. 

Safely tucked into his berth on the ferry, he opens the notebook and jots down the date. Dick makes the number one for some ingrained reason he can’t shake and makes a note about what happened in Walmart while shopping for Cheetos and blue Gatorade. He tries to come up with a word, argh, he’s bad with words; Logan can pull them out of thin air like nothing, and Ronnie uses them like daggers. Dick just wishes he could find one sometimes that wasn’t related to drinking, surfing, or getting stoned.

Dick continues south, spending time in smaller communities, cruising the beach when the waves won’t speak to him. He pays attention to people here as they are different from those he is used to in Neptune. There, either you have money or you don’t. If you have money, you don’t tend to pay attention to the  _ others _ so to speak, and the others are too angry at the haves to get along.

Thinking back to the antics in high school, burning down the community pool in retaliation for the PCHers shooting out the back of Logan’s X-Terra. What was solved? Well, no one died, so that was a positive. Ronnie was gone from Logan’s arms and back to Duncan by the end of the summer and a bunch of kids didn’t have a place to swim in the summer. Logan eventually lost his house.

Huh. 

Three months in, Dick finds himself in El Gancho, having decided not to cross the border into Guatemala. He hit some waves earlier in the morning after an overnight storm, and is now watching the local kids scrounging the beach for wood, presumably for a fire. He stocked up on marshmallows, hotdogs and s’mores fixings in anticipation of a raging bonfire. It brings a solemn smile remembering the last time he stocked up at a Walmart. 

What surprises him is that the kids are tying found pieces of rope together, and using them as lashings with their trove of wood. Dick stands up to get a better vantage point and sees the wood take shape, crude mind you, but the general idea is there. Watching, he genuinely smiles for the first time in what feels like, forever. The kids drag their creation out to the now tamed down waves and take turns body surfing into the beach. Dick builds a fire, keeping an eye on the kids, watching as their board is used until it literally falls apart.

They tumble onto the beach laughing and teasing as Dick beckons them over to warm themselves near the fire. Using his rudimentary Spanish, he tries to help explain fundamentals of board design and of surfing. Some of the kids are goofing around the pictures he is drawing in the sand, but a few are paying attention.

The amount they paid attention is evident the next day when some show up, along with parents, older siblings and some tools. They all cluster around Dick waiting on his words, or drawings, whatever can get the message across. Once parents ascertain Dick poses no threat, they drop off and head home, leaving their eager children in his hands along with various Mexican delicacies. 

At the end of the day no surfing has been done, there is no completed board, but the sense of accomplishment is ripe in the air. Dick falls asleep that night under the stars and dreams of cold beer and sweet waves.

The next morning a few more kids show up, with a few more tools, more wood, more food from grateful parents, all different ages, some still on the hips of their older siblings. But it doesn’t bother Dick, nor the other kids already invested in this project. This pattern continues like this for the next few days, then weeks and bleeds into months. Dick invests in some small tents for stormy days when he has the literate children focus on water safety, and some small appliances to cook warm meals for himself and other kids that stick around a little longer in the evening and show up a little earlier in the morning. Dick starts pulling the more talented and responsible kids aside to oversee fashioning boards, and teaching the basics of surfing. 

He starts his second journal.

Over the next six months, Dick uses the extra time to write up a proposal to approach a few local businesses in town for support. He fills two more journals with reflections, ideas, memories, anything that pops up into his head. With the one good asset his father left him, business acumen, he manages to shore up funds and donations to make the little enterprise sustainable for at least the next year. He’s sure there are one or two older kids that can manage the business side in his absence: Niños de el Gancho. He can provide oversight from Neptune.

Neptune.

With tears, and promises of visits, Dick started his trek back. With a model now, he makes a few stops along the way and shows them what he started in El Gancho. Providing the basics, and a few weeks of his time in a few towns, he manages to set up similar surf projects, and crack the book on a fourth journal.

He isn’t sure what to expect when he rolled into Neptune on a Wednesday afternoon at 5:30 am. Logan had long since moved out of The Grand and bought a beach house in the 09er area. Private beach access, yet also a pool with a sizable pool house. Somehow Logan managed to convince Ronnie to move in with him, so things might be finally looking up for both of them. Finally.

There isn’t a parade, no fanfare, there is a new coffee shop, but it’s like Dick never left. Except he did leave, and maybe Neptune didn’t change, but Dick did. He pulls into the driveway of the address Logan gave him and he smiles when he sees the opposing vehicles in the driveway. Clearly the right address. Killing the engine, he grabs his backpack and closes the door quietly. Scooting around back, he locates the key Logan left for him, which isn’t needed when he feels two warm familiar hands grab his shoulders.

“Hey man!” Dick smiles as he turns around.

“Hey! Good to have you back again!” Logan claps Dick on the back grabbing his bag and leads the way into the pool house. 

The lights flicker on and Dick sets his eyes on a queen size bed with his name written all over it. Oddly, Dick is wired though and paces around while Logan grabs a couple of beers out of the fridge.

“Cheers.”

“Cheers.” 

They drink in comfortable silence for a few minutes until Logan tips his beer towards the ocean. Suiting up, they head to the beach, but the waves aren’t hitting, so they sit and bob while Dick fills Logan in on the past year. His near miss with the wave and the perspective it brought. The trek south, and the kid in the Walmart with the unicorn shirt. Most of the time is spent talking about the surf project and his journals. Logan remains silent for the most part, nodding, hiding a smile.

When they get too close to shore, they paddle out again, slowly drifting from the private beach into the public beach area. Logan goes to say something to Dick and sees he is preoccupied by something on shore.

Logan scopes out the beach and licks his lips when he spies his favorite blonde. “Dude, let’s head in. We can grab breakfast.” 

“Yeah, yeah, sure, that sounds great.” Before Logan can dip a hand in, Dick is three strides towards the beach. 

Dick gravitates towards a group of kids with some makeshift boards and is showing them how to maximize their usefulness in the water. Logan watches out of the corner of his eye as he stows his board on the SUV Veronica drove down. Dick looks at ease interacting with the kids, surprising but in line with what Dick talked about. 

Logan grabs a blanket and the picnic basket Veronica packed and heads back to the beach. Peaking in, the aroma of freshly baked snickerdoodles hits his nose, and he steals one as he sets up the blankets and lays back reflecting on Dick’s revelations of the morning.

A shadow passes over his face and he looks up into the face of his favorite blonde. Taking a seat beside him, she nudges his foot with hers.

“Is that a creep factor Dick I should be worried about over there? Or did I miss something when you snuck out of bed at the crack of dawn this morning?” She gestures her chin towards Dick as she kisses Logan on the cheek. 

He chuckles as he grabs her. “No. No creep factor. He had an epiphany of sorts. He recognized his privilege, while making a positive impact that filled him with pride.” Logan gives her a smirk.

“Look at you. Someone paid attention in English class the day alliteration was covered.” Logan is rewarded with a soft kiss on the lips. “But seriously folks, is he ok? When he left…” She digs her feet into the sand and furrows her brows and they both leave unsaid what they both know.

Logan gazes over and sees the freeness in his friend’s body as he tosses a football to a girl out in the water. “Yeah, babe. I think he is going to be fine.”


End file.
